


who cares if one more light goes out? (well I do)

by CharlotteDaBookworm



Series: Regisson AU [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (he just doesn't think he's worth anything), (he thinks Noct will get over it), (no. he does), Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Angst, Difficult Decisions, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Nyx Ulric's Self-Esteem, Nyx doesn't really think this through, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Time Travel, by happy ending i mean more of a, it's probably still a little bitter, this is all Bahamut's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteDaBookworm/pseuds/CharlotteDaBookworm
Summary: In the shared space of their armiger, Noctis finds only a scrap of paper – a hastily scrawled note covering printed text.‘I’m sorry Noct, but they need you, far more than anyone needs me. Grow old, be happy, become the King that you were always meant to be.Rule well, little brother.I love you.Nyx’





	who cares if one more light goes out? (well I do)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own FFXV. The title is from One More Light by Linkin Park

* * *

Just because you’ve already made a choice doesn’t make it any easier.

In the darkness of the night, his brothers sleeping form turned towards him despite his earlier anger, Nyx feels his resolve waiver once more.

He’s been putting this off for days, ever since he saw his little brother again – a man now – and the words of his plan had dried up in his throat. And he knows he can’t put it off any longer, he _knows_, but still…

_Would it really be so bad, to wait a day or two more? Would it really make a difference, after ten years of darkness? Would anyone really blame him for waking Noct for a proper goodbye? _

But it’s too late.

Tomorrow they reach Insomnia – or what remains of it, and Nyx hasn’t stepped foot in the city that had been his second home since their father’s murderer drew his last – and Nyx-

Nyx refuses to allow his little brother to die, even for the world. Especially for the world.

Noctis deserves a long, happy life with his friends at his side; if Nyx sacrificing himself in his place will allow him that then so be it.

(He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save Selena. He couldn’t save their father. But Nyx can save Noct.

Maybe that will be enough for the others to forgive him)

Still, he sits beside his brother for hours, trying to work up the courage to leave without that final goodbye, and he can’t resist the way his fingers brush across his forehead, sweeping loose hair behind his ears with a gentle touch. Noct gives a sleepy grumble and Nyx freezes, unsure whether the desperate hope that burns in his lungs is for his brother not to wake or that he _will_.

But Noct just leans into the touch, completely trusting even in his sleep, and his heart melts and his resolve firms at the action.

This is worth it.

_He_ is worth it.

And it’s a stupid idea, one that could destroy everything, but Nyx leans down anyway – pressing a fleeting kiss to his brother’s hair, hand brushing his shoulder in a makeshift hug before he pulls away. He can’t regret it and he can’t regret the words he whispers before he stands, even though he knows that the only ones to hear them are himself and the wind.

_“I’m sorry little brother_, _but I love you far too much to let you do this. Not when there’s another option. But I’ll always be here, watching over you. _

_Live well and be happy Noct. _

_Let me take care of everything else.”_

* * *

When he wakes, his brother is gone.

For a long, sleepy moment, he thinks nothing of it. It isn’t the first time and it probably won’t be the last that Nyx disappeared in the night. Noctis loves him but he can’t understand his brother’s need to see the sun rise, just like he can’t understand the silent nightmares that chase his brother from the tent and into the wilds.

He almost imagines where they’ll find his brother this time – floating on his back in a stream, maybe, or upside-down half-way up a cliff again – when his eyes catch on the empty space where Nyx’s bedroll had sat the night before.

A quick glance tells him that all his brother’s things are gone, the spaces where they should sit glaringly empty in the camp, and fear flares high and overwhelming, turning his blood to ice as he _looks_ for his brother.

He freezes, wide-eyed in the darkness, his heart stuttering when his magic reaches out for a person who isn’t _there_.

Blood rushes in his ears.

Noctis lurches to his feet, burning away his bedding with a snarl as it tangled across his legs, and he ignores the way his friends wake and leap up, battle-ready, only to hesitate and turn to him as his frantic gaze searched the haven: for the car, for his brother, for any hint of what-

The relief he feels at the sight of the Regalia is short-lived when he touches where Nyx should be and finds only cold ground.

He had left on foot. But it’s been _hours_.

_Where could he have gone?_

And then Noctis notices the absent weight on his finger and he starts, his heart sinking as he curses with enough vitriol and vehemence that his friends finally understand what’s happening and join him in his litany.

The Ring is gone.

Nyx is gone.

* * *

In the shared space of their armiger, Noctis finds only a scrap of paper – a hastily scrawled note covering printed text.

_‘I’m sorry Noct, but they need you, far more than anyone needs me. Grow old, be happy, become the King that you were always meant to be._

_Rule well, little brother._

_I love you._

_Nyx’_

* * *

Bile rises, burning a hole in the back of his throat even as they rush towards Insomnia – not bothering to pack up camp, leaving everything there to the wild and the scavengers. Nyx had left on foot, hours ago but _still_.

Maybe they can catch him.

Maybe they’ll get there in time.

Maybe, if they’re lucky, they can stop him.

Noctis has a sinking feeling – one that leaves him sick to his stomach, one that has his white-knuckled fists shaking – that they won’t be lucky.

_When are you ever?_ A dark voice whispers. _When have you ever been _lucky?_ When has your line ever known luck? When have you ever known anything but death and despair and **failure**?_

_You want to save him? You read that note – what about that makes you think he even _wants_ to be saved?_

His fist grazes leather as he lashes out, snarling, pushing the voice from his mind because he won’t fail, he won’t let his brother die for him.

This is his fate, his burden, and _he won’t let anyone else die for him_.

Not again.

He snarls again, fist tightening until the crinkle of paper does what his friends’ words can’t and makes him stop – makes him take a breath, makes him sit back, leg bouncing as he fought the urge to simply leap from the car and warp to his brother.

He’s so angry – at himself, at Nyx, at the world – and all he can think about is-

All he can think about is how last night might be the last time he would see his brother and they’d been _arguing_. His brother – his big brother, Nyx who looked so much older, so much more worn, (but they all did, didn’t they? Every single one of them and he can’t believe that that much time had passed, couldn’t believe how much he’d missed, and it _hurt_. It hurt to think about all the years with them that he’d lost) – had walked to his death and the last thing he had said to him had been in anger.

Nyx had been angry and hurt, trying to get him to think, trying to get him to listen, trying to get him to find another way, and Noctis – tired and grieving lost time and resigned and angry himself because _didn’t Nyx think he’d asked?_ – had been dismissive because there wasn’t another way.

He’d screamed that at him, so angry because _‘can’t you see I don’t want to die? I don’t want to leave you guys, Nyx! I want to spend the rest of my life, I want to get married and have kids and spend the rest of my life with you all! But I don’t have a choice! I’ve never had a choice! This is what I was born for Nyx, there is no other way!’_

_‘What if-’_ His brother had asked, hesitant, tentative in a way Noctis had hardly ever seen but he hadn’t noticed because Nyx had just kept pushing and pushing until Noct had snapped.

“That’s _enough_ Nyx, I said **no**!” He quotes quietly, bitterly, under his breath – hearing the barked order from last night echoing in his head. Without the irritation and the grief and the resentment (because why did he have to keep bringing it up) from the last, he can remember the brief flash of resolve – of grief and anger and betrayal, of determination, of _pain_ – that had flickered across his brother’s face before he’d locked his expression down and bowed his head.

He knows now that his brother had already had a plan, that he had been trying to bring it up. He knows that his brother was just trying to help.

He knows and, looking back, he can see the exact moment Nyx had decided to go along with it anyway.

There had been a couple more attempts to speak to him again, after that, but eventually Nyx had walked away with nothing but a quiet goodnight when he’d refused to answer, still simmering in anger. He can remember the way he’d paused by his bedroll, mouth open as though to speak before he’d changed his mind.

Now, he thinks his brother had been trying to find a way to say goodbye.

It makes him want to scream. Because twice now, he’s managed to fuck up goodbyes – twice now, he’s managed to hurt the people he loves and not realised it until it was too late. First with his father, on the steps of the Citadel what seems like a lifetime ago, and now again with Nyx.

Nyx who might be dying, now, at this very moment.

His brother who had run off in the middle of the night to sacrifice his life so that Noctis might live to see the dawn again and the last words that he’d said to him were _‘that’s enough Nyx, I said no.’_

And still, despite all of that, despite how he’d gone out of his way to hurt him, Nyx had still left a note full of love and encouragement and hope for the future.

“Please, _please_,” he begs to any being out there, to any god that would answer, to his father, whispering the words into the wind, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. “Let us be fast enough, _please_. Don’t let those be the last words I say to him.”

There’s no response but the distant howling of daemons and he tries not to let the fear in his heart show to his friends.

* * *

_(they know)_

_(these people who love him, who know him nearly better than he knows himself, they know)_

* * *

“I’m sorry,” he says into the still, silent air as he stares up at the Lucian throne before him, ring still an uncomfortably familiar weight on his finger. The Lucii had nearly killed him last time, stopped only by his father, but all he feels now is the same cold determination that runs in his veins. “You’re going to be a great King, little brother, and I’m so sorry I won’t be there to see it.”

But he can’t let Noct die, not for this, not _like this_, not when he can still do something about it.

And he can.

Ramuh had assured him – however unhappily he’d done so – when he’d asked that Nyx’s willing sacrifice should be enough for the prophecy, as long as he sat on the throne and wore the ring. There was still a chance it wouldn’t work, Grandfather had warned him, a sad light in his eyes as he had watched him carefully, but magic had loopholes.

Nyx was close-kin to Noctis – was the son of the Father, in line to the throne, technical regent in his brother’s place during his disappearance – and he was the magic-Chosen of an Astral and _magic had loopholes_. He wasn’t The Chosen King, no, but he was _a_ Chosen King.

His sacrifice should be enough, Grandfather had said, knowing as he did so that he condemned his own Chosen.

Because if there was a chance – even the slightest of chances – that Noctis would be able to live his own life, that he would be able to grow old and have children and _live_, then there was never any doubt to the choice he was going to make.

What is his own life when compared to his brothers?

He steps into the room.

* * *

_His footsteps echo on the stairs._

* * *

The closer they get to Insomnia, the more obvious it becomes that Nyx is too far ahead of them.

Destruction, fresh destruction, lines the roads – daemons torn apart as though a hurricane had passed through, scorch marks that could only be from lightning, the sounds of thunder that fade in the distance. Ramuh had taught his chosen, his grandson, well and watching Nyx in battle was no less awesome than standing out in the midst of a thunderstorm.

Nyx is too far ahead.

They speed on anyway, ringing as much speed as they can from the old car, hoping desperately that they reach the city in time; that daemons and Izunia will be enough to hold Nyx back until they can reach them.

* * *

Settling into place on the King’s throne, Nyx can’t help but smile through the ache in his chest that has been building ever since he fought Izunia (and, despite everything, he hopes the man finds the peace he was long denied. Nyx is Galahdian and he knows how the Accursed was made and the Sage deserves his rest) because this is it.

Noctis will live.

It’s enough.

He slumps against the backrest, his head tilted back to rest against the cold stone, and he smiles. Faces flash behind his eyes – _Selena, Libertus, Crowe, Mum, Pelna, Grandfather, Cor, Gladio, Prompto, Ignis, Father, **Noctis**_ – and his smile falls as he clenches his fists against another wave of grief.

_I love you guys, all of you. I’ll be seeing some of you soon_.

Nyx breathes.

“Well,” he says and the word echoes in the ruins of the once-great city. Nyx straightens in the throne, lifting his head. “Here goes nothing. Let’s hope this works.”

His eyes bleed green.

The ring sparks.

“_Kings of Lucis,”_ Nyx snaps out. _“Come to me!”_

* * *

_The Father raises his blade._

* * *

It’s as they’re pulling up inside the city’s crumbling walls, as the remains of the Citadel that was once his home stand out above the rest, that they know they’re too late.

The world stills.

* * *

_The blade falls._

* * *

Noctis feels something **snap** inside of him – a bond he hadn’t realised he was clinging to so tightly until it was gone.

The land beneath his feet roiled, mourning even as it _sang_, even as the presence pressing in around him felt lighter by the second.

Nyx’s plan had worked.

The scourge is gone.

His brother is-

He throws himself out of the car, unthinking, uncaring, trying to launch himself towards the Citadel – towards _Nyx_ – and it’s only Gladio’s arms wrapping around him like a vice that holds him back. Before he realises it, there are three pairs of around him and words being murmured in his ear in a calming tone that he can’t hear over the blood rushing in his head and his desperate struggles to get free, to get to the Citadel.

His eyes never leave the building.

Because he needs to see him. _He needs to_.

_(Did the ring burn him again?)_

He can almost see how it happened, can almost picture his brother dead on his father’s throne, sacrificed for the dawn, sacrificed for _him_, and the image makes him feel sick, but he needs to.

_(Would he be smiling?)_

Even though he thinks it might break him, even though the mere idea of Nyx without that spark of life in his eyes, without that hint of a smirk on his lips no matter the situation, makes him want to **rage** against the Astrals.

_(Is there even anything left?)_

But he still needs to see him.

_(Why?)_

He needs to know.

_(Why **Nyx?**)_

The first light of dawn peeks out from above the spires of the fallen city.

_(…hisbrotherisdeadhisbrotherisdeadhisbrotherisdeadhisbrotherisdeadhisbrotherisdeadhisbrotherisdead…)_

Noctis chokes on a sob, the - unwelcome; nothing was worth the price paid, nothing about this was _welcome_, not even the sun – warmth of sunlight dancing against his skin for the first time in years.

He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see it.

**_Nyx is dead_**.

* * *

_The prophecy is fulfilled._

_The sun rises._

_The Chosen King lives._

_The Draconian rages._

* * *

** _The _ **

** _world _ **

** _blinks_ **

* * *

_“How fucking dare you!”_

He’s tackled to the ground, yell echoing in his ear, gravel scraping against his skin painfully, and it’s only the way that his magic reaches out and wraps itself fondly around his attacker that stops him from lashing out instinctively.

_“Noct…_” Nyx breathes, forcibly relaxing battle-tense muscles, letting his brother pin him to the ground – but just days ago it wouldn’t have been _let_. “I couldn’t just stand back and let you-”

“No!” He snarls, eyes flashing purple and magic humming in the air around him. “No! It wasn’t your choice to make!”

Nyx shakes his head. “Yes, it is!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“It’s my life Noctis,” he says softly, meeting his brother’s eyes. “It’s my choice what I do with it.”

“Damn it, Nyx! Not when you’re sacrificing yourself for me! You don’t get to make that choice; _you don’t get to take my place!_”

A fist slams into his shoulder – hard enough to bruise – and he flinches at it but doesn’t make the joke, doesn’t fight back with the retort that’s on the tip of his tongue. Instead he just looks up at his brother’s angry, grieving purple eyes and a small part of him regrets.

Not all of it – not even most of it; he can’t regret it, not when it meant that Noct lived, not when there was even the slightest chance his plan would work, not when there was one family member he managed not to fail. It was worth it, no matter what, just for the idea that his brother might be able to live his own life – but he does regret some of it.

Because his brother – his _little brother_, who Nyx just wants to protect, who he just wants to be happy, who he just wants to _live_ – is looking at him with tears in his eyes and there’s something bitter and broken in his face and _Nyx did that._

Noctis is looking at him like he’s scared that Nyx will disappear the second he looks away, shaking with something that’s both rage and grief and fear.

And he’s clutching at his coat like he doesn’t ever want to let go and there’s a terrible sort of broken misery in his eyes and the magic that’s clinging to him and _Nyx put that there_.

Suddenly, Nyx realises that, as desperate as he was to keep Noct safe, he hadn’t once considered what his death might do to him.

It never occurred him to him, as much as the thought of losing his brother made him want to rage and do anything to prevent it, that Noct might feel the same way.

The thought hits him like that blade to the chest, stealing the breath from his lungs as he looks down at his broken younger brother – at the boy who is nearly crying just looking at him, at Noct who looks just as horrible as he had when Nyx had looked him in the eyes and killed the hope that their father may have survived – and he realises what he’s done.

It hurts, being the one who did this to Noct – it hurts to look at him and realise that _he_ is responsible for putting that look on his face once again.

This is his fault.

He should have spoken to Noctis, properly. He should have told him. He should have-

He needs to apologise.

_(But, despite everything, Nyx can’t say he wouldn’t do take his place again)_

Nyx opens his mouth, eyes softening, an apology on his lips, when someone – one of the Guard – reaches out as though to separate them, to pull Noct away, and they both react. He snarls, eyes flashing green, and Noct tosses out a hand; shield pushing all of the spectators, all on guard, away.

_“Fuck. Off.”_ Noct yells, curling over Nyx and gripping on tighter.

“Can’t you see we’re trying to have a conversation over here,” he sneers, dismissing the guard entirely and sending them all a glare. Nyx flaps one of his hands so the glaive present will back down and turns back to his brother.

“I’m sorry Noct, I should have told. But they needed you.” He murmurs, letting his apology bleed into his magic, swallowing back the bile and the self-directed anger that rises at the thought of the hurt he’d caused his brother, at what his death had done to him. He rests a hand on top of Noctis’ fist – not trying to remove it, just holding, reminding him he was here.

_(And if he was using the contact to ground himself as well…)_

Noct shakes him off. “And _I_ needed _you_!”

“I know.” And he does. He’s always known. But- “You’re my _little brother_ Noct, I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die, not when I could do something.”

“You don’t get to make that choice!”

“I’m sorry.”

With a snarl, one of both rage and grief, Noctis throws himself at him again.

And Nyx- he just wraps his arms around his brother and holds him as snarls turned to sobs, rocking them both back and forth as he whispers desperate apologies in Noctis’ ear, tears streaming down his own face.

Nyx holds his brother and they both cry and they ignore the world around them a little longer.

They can deal with everything else later.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> that's all I've currently got planned for this so far so if there's anything you wanna see in the series give me a shout (either here or tumblr) and i'll give it a try


End file.
